


What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks

by Keysmasher



Series: Good Girl [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Gentle Sex, Multi, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex Magic, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-28 10:38:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keysmasher/pseuds/Keysmasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean get hit with an aphrodisiac, and Cas grabs her for help. Later, she deals with problems at work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Starts with porn, middle is plot, end will probably be porn again.

"Maria."

She shrieked, rousing instantly, and groped for the gun she kept on her nightstand. A firm hand pinned her facedown on the bed, and again she heard, "Maria."

She recognized the voice. "Cas?"

"Yes."

"Don't you know better than to wake someone up like that?" she demanded, wiggling against his hands. 

He retracted them and she rolled to sit up. "I apologize. It was necessary," he explained.

"Why?" She yawned.

"Sam and Dean have been… _affected_ by an aphrodisiac. The three of us have been fornicating for hours, but both Sam and Dean are beginning to get sore from anal sex." She winced at his almost clinical description. "I was hoping you would be able to help until the effects wear off."

"How long will that be?" she asked, smothering another yawn.

"Two hours at most, I believe."

She glanced at the clock. She had to be up at four to get to work early enough to keep slogging through the backlog of work, and she hadn't gotten to bed until one. She'd only been asleep for half an hour when Cas had appeared.

Still, it was sex with the three of them, and that wasn't something she'd ever forgive herself for turning down. Not with how they focused on her pleasure, so much so they didn't let her rest until she came so many times she lost consciousness.

"I'm in," she said, making a snap decision. Work would always be there, but a horny Sam and Dean wouldn't. She wasn't an idiot - she knew their lifestyle meant they'd likely be dead before she was, and it would probably be a painful death, so she was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

"I'm going to prepare you before we go," Cas warned, reaching out two fingers and putting them on her forehead. She had the strangest swooping sensation in her abs and ass; when it stopped as abruptly as it had begun, she was in a different hotel room and she could feel wetness along both of her holes underneath her panties.

 _Trust Cas to not consider clothes_ , she thought ruefully. Not that she was wearing much - she never wore a shirt to bed, and she very rarely wore pants.

Dean was on top of Sam, sucking him deep and flexing his hips to drive his cock down Sam's throat. Dean couldn't quite get Sam all the way in, but a good three quarters of it was disappearing between his lips in a steady rhythm. Watching them, she swallowed; even if Cas hadn't gotten her wet, the sight would have done it for her.

Dean choked off a cry, a vocalization she recognized from their previous times - he was coming. He thrust his hips down and locked them in that position. She couldn't see from this angle, but she would bet Sam was choking.

Dean flicked his tongue over the dick in front of him and cum dribbled out; Sam's hips jerked weakly. Dean rolled off, panting. "Did it work?"

Sam raised his head and squinted at his still-hard dick. "Nope."

"Sam. Dean." Cas's voice was mild. "I brought-"

"Oh fuck yes," Sam blurted, rolling up off the bed. With a blink, Cas was naked and straddling Dean. He'd said Dean was sore from taking it up the ass, so she guessed Cas was going to ride him, leaving her to deal with Sam.

She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck when he picked her up. His dick shifted to press into the hollow between her legs as she leaned her head forward to kiss his jawline.

He growled, stumbled forward (slamming her back into the wall), and lined himself up, pressing himself inside her with a quick few thrusts.

"No foreplay this time," she gasped as he set a punishing rhythm.

"Need you," Sam grunted, driving into her. "Fucking tight, whore, fuck, tighter than Dean now."

She looked over his shoulder to see Dean on his back, Cas holding his hands against the pillow. Apparently Dean submitted to Cas more easily than he submitted to his brother or to her. Not that she could really blame him - he was older than Sam, and obviously she got off on being dominated.

A harder thrust brought her attention back to Sam and she turned to press her face into his neck. His hand snaked up her back to wrap her hair in a fist and yank her head back.

"Little whore. Fuck, you gonna make me come? You make me come I'll make you come, that's the deal." She had no leverage in this position, but she tried her absolute best to push down on him. "Fuck, that's it, whore. Just fucking take it," he breathed, soft voice a stark contrast to the relentless pounding of his hips. "That's it - that's it - _fuck!_ " He pushed his hips flush against hers and stilled, twitching inside her. "Fuck," he said again a minute later, untangling her hair from his fingers. "You all right?"

"I'm fine," she reassured him.

"Good." He took a step back. "No, don't - keep your legs like that -" One of his arms wrapped around her waist, the other under her ass, supporting and steadying her as he carried her to the bed. "Good girl, keeping my dick in you like that. Don't move. Let me stay in. Good little slut," he whispered, kissing her forehead and letting her go to drop her back onto the bed. "Legs stay up," he said again, pulling his hips back and driving in deep.

She let him fuck into her hard and lolled her head to the side. Cas had one hand around Dean's wrists and the other on his throat. _Fucking hell,_ she thought incredulously. She couldn't even handle high-necked shirts, how the hell was Dean getting off on being choked?

"You like that, don't you?" Sam hissed, dropping down onto his elbows. "Imagining yourself like that? Held down, tight and open for me-"

"Not the choking bit," she said sharply when she felt his hand creeping up her sternum. "Put your hand on my neck and I'm _done._ "

"Fine." He stopped moving before grabbing her wrists and pinning them over her head with one hand, gripping her right breast tight with the other. "This good?" She nodded. "Fuck, of course it is, you're good with just about anything, aren't you?" He flexed his hips, rolling into her, and she shuddered. "Would you let me tie you up? Get rope on you, put a gag in your mouth. Spread-eagle, limb to each post, what do you think of _that?_ " He punctuated the last word with a sharper thrust and she started panting. "Tied down for us, totally at our mercy. Think you could do that? Be a good girl for us? We'd take you so fucking hard you'd stop moving."

"Yes," she whimpered, " _please._ "

"Yeah? That one of your dirty little fantasies? Getting tied up and fucked hard?" She nodded frantically, thinking back to when she was younger, young enough she'd thought only guys masturbated because no one had ever told her otherwise even though she made herself come on a semi-regular basis. "Tell me what you think of," he ordered. "Everything. How long have you wanted it?"

"I was little," she panted. "God, twelve, maybe, it was my first fantasy."

"Your first?" Dean said from beside them. She hadn't realized he was listening.

"Yeah. Read about pirates. Thought about - thought about getting captured. Touched myself to it. Tied up and left in the cabin for them to-"

Sam whined high in his throat, cutting her off as he came again. "Roll over," he grunted. "Tell us the rest while you're on your belly, stuffed full of me. No, don't pull off." He gripped her legs and unwound them from his waist, closing them in front of his face with his dick still spearing her. "Just roll." She did as instructed, groaning at the feel of rotating around him as he pushed her legs down to hit the floor. "Around me again," he ordered, gripping her thighs and pulling, arranging her awkwardly. "Fuck, good little cockslut," he mumbled, thrusting two or three times in rapid succession. "Come on. You got tied up and left."

"Fuck, yeah," she moaned. "Got rope all around me, every inch, except my waist and my tits and my mouth. Even around my eyes. Used to think about being kissed, getting felt up, before they'd - fuck Sam _right the fuck there!_ "

He stopped moving. "Keep talking and I'll keep fucking," he said.

"Fucking tease. Thought about them pinching my nipples tight, putting something on them to keep them pinched, didn't fucking know about clamps then - oh shit _Sam_ \- but just thought about it, them pinching me tight, shoving their dicks in my cunt. Come and leave. Thought about them putting their dicks in my mouth and just going to town, down my throat, making me gag and choke on them, fuck, thought about two at a time, one in my mouth and one in my cunt, and sometimes I'd be asleep and they'd just take what was theirs, shit, imagined they kept me like that for _years_ and I got addicted to their cocks."

"So fucking hot," Dean gasped. "Fuck-" He had his hands on Cas's hips. "Want us to be your pirates, baby? Keep you tied up like that, fuck you full whenever we want to, use you like a fucking toy?"

"I'll block out a weekend for that," she said breathlessly.

"You'd fucking better," Sam grunted. He moved forward, forcing her further onto the bed, until he was kneeling behind her and she was on her calves. "Fuck yourself on my dick, you little cockslut. You ever think about them in your ass?"

She shook her head. "Didn't know that was an option back then," she panted. "When I did, I had the Internet and porn and fantasies didn't matter so much when I had flesh and blood right in front of me."

"Tell me another," Dean said. "Something else you think about when you touch yourself at night."

"Think about getting bent over a desk," she said, voice wavering in time with her rocking. "Getting my hands tied behind my back, legs tied to either side. Blindfolded and gagged, so there's no way I can see who's behind me. Cock after cock in me, right in my pussy or ass, and I'm so ready for them I just open right up like butter."

"Damn," Sam growled, bending over to wrap an arm around her waist and slam into her. "We'll have to do that sometime, too."

"Sometimes - sometimes I think about getting tied and left in a park, ready for use." She was writhing back against him now. "Blindfolded, just let everyone fuck me. Do whatever they want to me."

"Fuck," Sam groaned. "You're a good little slut, aren't you? Fucking _whore._ " His hips slammed into hers and she pushed back, shit, she was so fucking close-

He came and collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily. She felt him softening inside of her and almost groaned. Of course it wore off right when she was about to fucking come. She wormed a hand down to press her clit.

Sam rolled off her and lay, panting, on his back next to her. She flipped to be on her back and propped herself up on one elbow to get a better angle, pushing against her palm with skill born of practice.

"Sorry," Sam said when he realized what she was doing.

"It's fine, just don't fucking talk for a minute."

Dean choked off a cry; obviously he had just come, as well. Cas pulled off and she saw the aphrodisiac was wearing off for the older Winchester as well.

Her arousal tapered off, leaving her frustrated. She'd been ten seconds away, and now-

Cas was suddenly on top of her. "Lie back," he murmured against he mouth. "I'll take care of you."

She did as she was instructed, opening her mouth to him and feeling the sheets beneath them change - a quick glance showed he'd taken them back to her house.

"I thought Sam and Dean could use their rest. Would you rather go back?" 

She shook her head and he kissed her softly, his lips chapped as the slipped over hers. His hands found hers and their fingers laced together as he pushed inside.

It was gentle. She'd never really _had_ gentle before. She had a boyfriend who tried to get her to ride him, once, but she'd done so poorly he'd lost patience with her before she figured out what she was supposed to be doing. The first time with Cas, they'd had her ride him, but they were still telling her exactly what to do. Most of her other boyfriends had been abusive pricks. Sam and Dean were rough with her because they knew she liked it; the others had been rough because _they_ liked it.

Cas kissed his way to her ear and said, "You forget I know everything about you. I thought you might like this."

"I do," she said, nipping his ear. This kind of sex made her feel less like she was out of control and more like she was - hell, _special._ Dainty but not weak.

"You are definitely not weak," Cas said, finding her mouth with his own again. To her shame, she felt tears brimming in her eyes and forced them back. Shit, this was why she'd never even _asked_ for gentle before, she'd been afraid this would happen-

"It's just us here," Cas said quietly, putting a hand on her cheek. "You don't need to pretend for me."

"I need to pretend for myself," she whispered, ashamed.

His thumb stroked just beneath her eye. "Relax. Maybe if you stopped pretending, you'd be happier."

She took a deep breath. "Let's save the life counseling for later," she said, forcing it into a joke and rolling her hips against him.

Cas nodded and kissed her again, slow and soft and sweet. His hips undulated against her at a steady pace as their tongues danced.

She rubbed his back, not sure what to do with her free hand; when he moaned into her mouth, she took it as encouragement and kept rubbing, focusing mostly on his shoulders. He grabbed her waist, releasing her fingers, and she put both hands on his back to rub. She felt it building steadily inside her and kissed him deeper, more passionately.

Her left hand reached down to press against his ass. He moaned again, deep in his throat, and she suddenly remembered he'd had a dick in there not ten minutes before.

Her legs jerked against him, drawing up involuntarily as she climbed higher and higher. A calf muscle cramped and she ignored it, too close to pay attention to pain, fuck, her legs only did that on their own when she was about to come _hard_ -

She groaned when it exploded through her, vocalizing her pleasure, and she knew Cas would catch the significance of that even as he came with her. They rolled onto their sides, her leg thrown over his hip to keep him inside.

They kissed a while longer, still intertwined. After a few minutes, when Cas moved down to her neck, she caught a glimpse of the clock and said, " _Shit._ Cas, I'm sorry, but I really need to go."

"It's only five," he said.

She pulled her leg back. "I have so much paperwork it's ridiculous."

"Don't humans usually give it to someone else?" he asked, confused.

"There's nobody to give it _to,_ " she explained, standing up and moving to her dresser. "They haven't let me replace the three who were killed yet."

Cas frowned. "That was almost a year ago."

She shrugged helplessly. "Office politics. I've been doing their jobs as well as my own. I've sent in a request to hire new employees every month. I get this month's denial today, should be around noon." She snapped her bra in place and moved quickly to her closet, sorting through with the ease of long practice. Cas's languid way of fucking - _making love,_ that wasn't fucking, fuck, she was falling for him and probably Sam and Dean as well, shit shit shit _no stop deal with it later when he isn't here to read your mind_ \- had left her feeling sated and actually good about herself, so she picked out a flirty red skirt that hit just above the knee and a three-quarter-sleeve ivory blouse.

"Do you mind zipping me up?" she asked. She could get the back of her skirt if she tried, but it was awkward.

"Of course." His nimble fingers did up the zip and rested on her hip. "Dressing up for a reason?"

She turned and smiled. "Look good, feel good," she said. "Though in this case, it might be feel good, look good." Cas looked mystified.

She turned to her desk and sat down. She explained while she was putting on her makeup. "See, humans, we like looking good. It makes us feel better about ourselves. We're incredibly vain."

"You're not a vain person, though."

She chuckled. "Maybe not. But when we look good, other people notice. They don't comment on how tired we seem, or ask if we're angry, or tell us we need to smile. Why do you think Sam and Dean get away with half the shit they pull? Their badges aren't good fakes. It's because they're pretty, they smile, and they wear suits. All the shallow assholes around us mean we have to focus on our appearance even when we don't want to, because if we don't everyone in a two-mile radius is going to ream our asses for it."

"Why?"

"Because we live in a society where we're decoration more than function." She opened her mouth in a wide 'O' to put her lipstick on. "That's why corporate didn't care when my friends were dying, because they were women. 'If a man who knows what he's doing gets killed, then we'll look into it.' He said that to me." She suppressed the surge of anger. "Almost ripped into him for that one." She put her glasses back on and picked up her brush to attack the rat's nest that was her hair. "Do you want something to eat?"

"I do not require food," he said, apparently completely willing to roll with the subject change.

"I didn't ask if you needed it, I asked if you wanted it. I have eggs, potatoes, and sausage," she offered. "I usually make a burrito, I can make one for you."

"I don't believe I've ever had a burrito," Cas said, his brow furrowing.

"That settles it, then. Let me finish brushing my hair and I'll make them up. You might want to get dressed - the windows are open and the neighbors will bitch if you walk around naked."


	2. To Business That We Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long day at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "To business that we love we rise betimes, and go to’t with delight.” -William Shakespeare

She made Cas a burrito (and two each for him to take back to Sam and Dean, when they woke up) and kissed him goodbye, wishing she didn't have to go in so early and stay so late. The sooner she got that email approving even one of the former positions the better, but she wasn't holding her breath.

The morning commute wasn't all that bad, much to her surprise. The sunrise turned the lawns and street a dull gold, and it was warm enough she pulled her long hair into a ponytail and rolled the window down. She twiddled the radio to a mindless pop station and sang along as she drove, taking the twenty minutes to herself to relax and just not think about Sam, Dean, and Cas. It was definitely an 'and'; the thought of separating the three of them as a romantic unit was laughable at best. They were together, and she was on the edge, lucky enough to bathe in their reflected love. She had no illusions that she was anything but replaceable.

She parked close to the door, unlocked the employee entrance to the building, and went up to her office, starting coffee in the break room on her way. The heavy bag of papers thumped against her thigh with every step and pulled against the muscles of her back, reminding her she needed to find time to replace the rolling bag that had finally given out from use the week before. She was highly tempted to glue a handle and wheels onto a milk carton and call it a day, but doubted it would be considered professional enough to actually use.

People started trickling in two hours after she came in, readying the museum for opening at ten. They had two field trips, one from an elementary school and one from the middle school, and so there was more preparation to be done - though both groups were coming in the afternoon, so they had a little bit of time.

She worked steadily though the morning, finishing the paperwork she'd meant to do the night before but had run out of time on. At noon, she checked her email again. Some of it went straight into 'trash', some she forwarded to corporate, some she responded to. The last one was marked 'Re: Personnel request' and she took a breath before opening it, preparing herself for disappointment.

She had to read it twice to make sure she understood. They were getting rid of the three supervisory positions below her and replacing it with one, which was to be filled at her discretion - corporate-speak for 'stop bothering us'.

Relieved, she sent out a mass email asking anyone interested in the position to come by her office at noon the next day for a briefing and turned back to the suddenly-less-daunting pile of papers in front of her.

At three, her phone rang. "Maria Brasen."

"Maria? It's Julie. We have a problem on the floor." Julie sounded like she was about to cry.

"What's wrong?"

"Two of the boys, they - they got into a fight. One of the displays fell on them."

"Is everyone okay?" She'd deal with the display later, there was nothing she couldn't fix well enough to fool the average museum-goer.

"One of them broke his arm. His dad was a chaperon and wants to speak to you."

"I'm coming. Where are you?"

"Paleolithic 16-A."

"Be right there." She hung up and swore internally all the way down. Why the fuck were they close enough to a display to break it? A broken arm wasn't serious, but it was enough to make corporate go apeshit on her.

She heard the yelling before she saw the group and hurried her pace, half-wishing she was wearing heels so they'd clack authoritatively. Her flats made almost no noise on the tile.

She rounded the corner to see a man towering over the petite Julie, screaming into her face. Julie looked like she was about to cry. The other middle-schoolers were gaping at him in astonishment; the boy cradling his arm looked like he wanted to sink through the floor. Shards of plastic lay at the base of a bookshelf that was usually sectioned off with a cheerful yellow chain; now, the chain lay broken among the plastic.

Cautious relief trickled through her. It had only been a globe - she'd been afraid they'd gotten into the wall display and broken one of the models. Those had been a bitch to put together.

"Excuse me," she said, loudly enough that the man heard her over his yelling. "You wanted to see me?"

The man swung, face a mottle purple, and snapped, "No. I wanted a fucking manager."

Smile firmly in place, she said, "You're in luck, then. I'm the regional supervisor and curator."

"You?" He laughed derisively. "What qualifies _you_?"

"A PhD in history and one in sociology," she said sweetly. "Dr. Maria Brasen, at your service. What seems to be the problem here?"

"Your museum broke my boy's arm!"

"How so?"

"The globe fell on top of him, that's how!"

She blinked. "Sir, that globe weighed no more than two pounds."

"Are you calling me a liar?" he spat.

"How about you tell me what happened," she suggested. "Julie, do you mind getting a broom? We should get the plastic cleaned up before someone else gets hurt."

"I don't know what happened, do I? I was looking at something else."

She mentally groaned. He was one of _those_ parents. "Then let's ask someone who _did_ see," she suggested, turning to the teacher.

He swallowed nervously. "It was Don and Kaiser," he said. "I don't know what started it, but they were fighting. They went into the shelf and the globe fell before we could get them separated."

"Are you Don?" she asked the boy cradling his arm, taking a shot in the dark. He nodded. "Is that what happened?" He nodded again. "When did your arm break?"

"When he tackled me," he whispered. "The globe didn't do it, he did."

She turned to Don's father, who looked defeated. "Might I suggest you take him to get the arm set," she said mildly, hiding the anger that that hadn't been the _first_ thing he'd done.

"Yeah," the man muttered. "C'mon, Don." They disappeared.

She blew out a breath and turned back to the teacher. "Is there anything you need from me?" she asked. "Documentation, proof of proper supervision, anything like that?"

He shook his head. "Thanks for coming down. I'm sure you're busy."

"It's part of my job," she said, smiling gently.

"Do you need contact information for the boys' parents? I assume you'll need to replace that."

She shook her head. "I'll piece it back together tonight. It's high enough the glue lines won't be seen."

"If you say so," he said doubtfully.

"I'll let you get back to your tour," she said as Julie came back into view with a broom, dustpan, and paper bag. "Julie, do you mind continuing, or do you want me to take over?"

"I'll keep going, just let me-"

"I'll sweep it up," she interrupted. "When you're done with the tour, can you meet me in my office? I need your version of events for the incident report."

"Of course." She took a deep breath. "All right, kids, we're at the end of the paleolithic, so we'll move on to the mesolithic era. Does anyone know what 'meso' means?"

She half-listened to the chatter as they moved off, knowing what Julie was saying word for word - she had, after all, written the script, and though everyone knew she didn't care if they followed it, most of them chose to memorize the words rather than make one up themselves.

The plastic shards went into the bag to be carried up to her office. She put the broom and dustpan away before returning to the mountain of paperwork that had seemed smaller such a short time before.

No other emergencies required her attention for the rest of the day, so she finished playing catch-up. When Julie came in to finish the incident report, she made her a cup of tea, trying not to be annoyed by her weeping. She understood it was the first time Julie had been by a fight, and that she was probably worried about Maria's response to how she'd handled the situation, but it was irritating to have Julie crying in her office.

 _Reason 87 I'm going to Hell,_ she thought dispassionately, patting Julie's back awkwardly.

Between the fight and the paperwork, it was almost midnight when she finished what had a deadline and could finally turn her attention to things that needed to be done _soon_ , but that wouldn't affect the administrative part of the museum. It had been six months since she'd done a walk-through of the exhibits to make sure there wasn't something wrong, the globe needed to be fixed (although she could pull a ten from her wallet and ask one of her floor workers to just go buy a new one, corporate tended to frown on her spending personal money), the budget needed to be run, she had to figure out what was going to happen in the interest meeting, personnel reviews needed to be done-

She was exhausted.

 _Maybe if I walk around a bit, I'll wake up,_ she thought with a queer sort of hope. More likely it would just increase her pain levels and make her less productive, but stranger things had happened. She started the budget program and grabbed one of the composition books in her desk drawer and a pen before setting out.

One of the tigers in the ice age exhibit was fraying, there was a broken club in the paleolithic era, and the model of a 1940s textile machine was missing a part. There was a frayed wire in the Great Depression (she put up a warning sign on the computer it went to) and a torn reproduction of a painting from 18th-century Qing Dynasty China. Minor, barely-noticed problems on their own, but taken together they gave the impression that she didn't care.

She returned to her office with a frown on her face. It had taken her two hours to do a walkthrough and she was sore. The budget program had finished running and showed that she'd been under-budget for almost a year - not surprising, given the de facto elimination of three supervisors.

Looking at what she had left to do, she decided to figure out the interest meeting script and schedule performance reviews, leaving the globe for another day. By the time she'd written down the salient points for the meeting and blocked out times for reviews - all provisional, she'd have to get each employee to agree to the time slots and move any that didn't work - it was nearing two in the morning.

Not for the first time, she considered the pros and cons of sleeping in her office. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but given that she had to be back in at six, it had some merit.

She wasn't in a fit state to drive anyway. She'd probably end up wrapping her car around a tree.

Her phone beeped, telling her there was a new text, and she unlocked it. _[1] New Message_ blinked up at her.

It was from her brother Sam. _U coming for thanksgiving?_

Fuck, it was the end of October already. _Maybe,_ she sent back.

Not long after, her phone beeped again. _Come on. U know u want sausage stuffing_

_True. I love me some sausage._

_Bet ur boyfriends happy about that_

She paused. _How'd you know I was seeing someone?_

_I didnt_

_Fucker._

_Lol. Bring him along_

_We'll see._

He didn't answer and she stretched out in her chair, letting her eyes close. She was asleep in seconds.


	3. When We Mean to Build

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HR shows up for a surprise visit and Maria, Sam, Dean, and Cas talk about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting seriously kinda schmoopy. If it gets too much, let me know; this is the first time I've tried to write romance.

A knock on her door woke her. She jerked upright and smoothed her hair before calling, "Come in."

Leslie stuck her head in. "There's a guy from corporate here to see you. Weren't you wearing that yesterday?"

She ignored the question. "Now? Where is he?"

"Right here."

"All right, let him in." She glanced at the clock - it wasn't even eight yet. Leslie must have come in early, meeting the corporate guy by chance.

"Dr. Brasen?" the man said, offering his hand. She rose to take it. "I'm Jeff Pilsner, from Human Resources. I was wondering if I could have a talk with you."

"Of course. Please, have a seat."

"Thanks. I was wondering - we've received a number of complaints."

"About?"

"Your work schedule."

She frowned. "Who's complained about _my_ schedule?"

"Your subordinates are concerned about the long hours. From what I've seen - you slept here last night?- they're right to be worried."

She shifted. "Not to be rude, but I've been doing four jobs for eleven months. I just got the go-ahead to fill in one floor supervisor position yesterday."

"Why wasn't it already filled?"

She frowned at him. "Do you remember what happened last year? Four women died in what my boss brushed off as accidents?"

His eyes widened. "I - I, uh, hadn't heard that. What do you mean, brushed off?"

She waved a hand. "Four women in the same line of work got killed in bizarre ways in less than a week. I doubt that was coincidence." She stifled a yawn. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be brusque."

"It's all right. So these women, they were supervisors?"

She nodded. "Well, Ashley Morris was on the floor and was crushed by a granite sphere, but her direct supervisor was Kendra Tucker, who had a toaster explode and catch her carotid. Sandra Friks supposedly took an overdose of Vicodin with a bleach chaser, and Jill Osser's blouse got caught in the copy machine and strangled her."

"What did your supervisor say when you told him?"

"The first time, he told me Ashley must have tripped and knocked the sphere on top of her. He said Kendra was an idiot and Sandra was a sadsack, and that Jill deserved it for wearing a frilly blouse. The incident reports should be on file." She swallowed another yawn. "I was told to not fill any of those positions. A month later, I started sending emails. I got ten denials and then yesterday I was told I could promote one of my current employees, taking them off the floor and putting them into a supervisory position. The interest meeting's today so I can tell the interested parties what'll be expected of them."

"So you were forced to take on four positions at the same salary without being allowed to delegate any work, is that right?" She nodded. "Why didn't you send us a complaint?"

"Because it has to go through my boss," she said bluntly. "I tried, once, and was told I had to go through the proper channels. So I shut up and did the best I could."

Pilsner frowned. "Why would it have to go through your boss?"

"Because he's my contact to corporate, and so everything related to corporate goes to him." She rubbed her face, trying to wake up a bit more.

"I'm going to call my supervisor, ask him to look up those incident reports."

She nodded. "I'll be here, fixing the globe that broke yesterday."

He looked at her strangely but left her there, presumably leaving the building. She hauled the bag of plastic up to her desk and started sorting through the pieces, using super glue to hold them together. She'd finished the Americas and half of Europe when Pilsner re-entered.

"You weren't joking."

She shook her head. "What did your supervisor say?"

"We have no incident reports from this location."

She frowned. "Really? Not even the one form yesterday?"

"What happened yesterday?"

"We had a tour group here. Middle schoolers. Two of the boys got into a fight, which is how the globe broke, and one of the boys broke an arm. Wait a second." She flipped through the stack of papers on her desk. "Here. Scanned it and sent it over around four yesterday afternoon."

His eyes skimmed the document. "Do you have the ones from last year?"

"Probably." She stood, wincing at the cracks her knees produced, and unlocked the file cabinet, rifling through until she came to the right month. "November of last year," she said, pulling out the contents of the folder. "This is bills, reports, evaluations, and incidents, so give me a second to find them."

"Take your time."

 _Don't patronize me,_ she thought, finding the reports with a minimum of pain. She handed them over with an unspoken challenge, though what she was challenging she wasn't quite sure. She turned back to the globe while he read.

An hour later, he left with copies of reports in his hand and a promise to her that things would change. She smiled and agreed, privately thinking that someone sent out to hound her about her schedule was unlikely to have enough say in the company to do anything.

The interest meeting went well, she thought. Julie, Leslie, Theresa, Brad, and Dimitri all showed up, and though she thought Julie was too high-strung and Brad too laid-back to be adequate supervisors, she told herself she'd give them a chance.

Once interviews for the five of them were set up, she sent out an email about performance reviews. Most staff wouldn't check their email at work, which meant she had a while to wait until she got a response.

She spent the rest of the time on various bits of administrative bullshit that needed to get done, and when she left at six, it was with the knowledge that she had a berry cobbler waiting for her at home and hardly any paperwork left at the office. Satisfied but exhausted, her plans for the night consisted of a lazy night with mind-numbing television.

That lasted until her phone buzzed at eight, right when she was finishing dinner. "Hello?" she said.

"Hey, Maria, it's Sam."

"Sam, my brother?"

"No." She could hear the laughter in his voice. "Sam, the one who fucks you so hard you pass out."

"Oh, _that_ Sam. What's up?"

"We, uh, we need to talk."

"That doesn't sound good." _Whatever happens, you'll be fine,_ she told herself.

"If Cas comes to get you, can you come see us?"

She cast a longing look at her plate and had a sudden flash of inspiration. "Have you had dinner yet?"

"No, why?"

"Saturday nights I make enough to take leftovers in for work. How about you three come over and we'll talk over food?"

"That sounds fantastic," Sam said. "What'd you make?"

"Chicken and rice bake."

He actually moaned. "Oh my God, I think I love you."

She smiled. "When can I expect you?"

"Soon as I get off the phone and sell Dean on homemade food that won't clog his arteries." She heard an indignant 'hey!' in the background and stuffed her index finger in her mouth so as not to laugh.

"I'll see you then."

"Bye." The phone clicked dead in her hand.

She got out three more plates and sets of silverware and, just for the hell of it, set the table. She usually didn't bother when it was just her, but she somehow doubted Sam and Dean often had sit-down dinners with anything other than take-out and individual cartons. That the bake sat in the table still in the 9x13 was something that couldn't be helped; she didn't have a platter large enough to hold it all, and she didn't want to have to go back to the kitchen to keep loading up a small one.

She was just getting glasses down when she heard the telltale flicker of angel materialization behind her. She turned and grinned. "Hey, guys."

"Hey, Maria." Dean sniffed. "Holy shit, that smells _awesome._ "

"Plates are on the table. Can I get y'all something to drink?"

"What do you have?" Sam asked, coming forward.

"Uh, water, milk, juice...I think I have some Sprite in the cupboard. And vodka."

"Beer?" Dean asked hopefully.

She shook her head. "Beer and wine give me a killer headache. I stick to the strong stuff."

Dean opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed his eyes and shook it off. Half-smiling and shaking his head, he said, "Sprite."

"Sam? Cas?"

"Water's fine," Sam said.

"I do not-"

"I know you don't require it," she interrupted. "It's not about requirement, okay, it's about enjoyment."

"Oh." Cas paused a moment. "I don't believe I've ever had Sprite."

"Sprite it is." She opened the cupboard and found the bottle. "It's off-brand, but it's about the same. Here." She handed him the glass when it had barely a mouthful in it. "Try it, see if you like it."

He sipped tentatively, brow furrowed. Then his eyes popped wide and he said, "That is very good."

"Here, have some more," she said, taking the glass back and passing a full one to Dean. "Go ahead and sit down at the table, help yourselves."

"Thanks," Dean said. "C'mon, Sam." He tugged at his brother's sleeve until Sam followed him to the dining room like a puppy.

She handed the glass off to Cas and screwed the lid back on, turning quickly when she heard Cas choke and cough. She rescued the glass before it could fall to the floor and put her hands on his shoulders. "It burns," he choked out.

"Yeah, I know," she said, fighting a laugh. "Don't swallow so fast. We'll flatten it for you next time, okay? I don't like it that fizzy either. C'mon, let's go out to the table. I haven't eaten today and I'm starving."

"Why haven't you eaten today?" Cas asked.

"I slept at my desk last night, so I didn't get breakfast, and I didn't have time for lunch," she explained. "Someone from HR stopped by, wanted to know why I was working so many hours."

"Whoa, wait, HR came by? What happened?" Sam asked, concerned.

She shrugged. "Apparently, a few of my minions sent them e-mails about how much I was working."

"How much were you working?" Dean asked.

She sat down and picked up her fork. "A lot. I just told Cas, I fell asleep at my desk last night. Didn't wake up until eight this morning, when the HR guy showed up."

"Why?" Dean looked baffled.

"They haven't let me replace the four dead women yet," she answered. "I got an email today that I could replace one. That'll help some. And apparently my direct supervisor's been holding out - they haven't gotten any incident reports from me at all. Not about the deaths, not about the kid who broke his arm yesterday-"

"Wait, someone broke his arm? How?"

She picked up her silverware and cut a piece of chicken. "Middle school tour. Two of the boys got into a fight. They broke a globe. I spent today putting it back together." She scowled.

"Why not just get a new one?" Dean asked.

"No time. It's a reproduction of one of Vespucci's, it has to be special-ordered. I almost sent someone out with a ten to get a cheap one until the replacement could come in, but if anyone from corporate saw it, I'd be toast. So I put it back together with superglue and called it a day. How've you guys been? No lasting effects, I hope?"

They both shook their heads and Dean finally took a bite of chicken, leaving Sam to say, "We're both fine. Sore, but fine."

"Jesus, this is fantastic," Dean said through a mouthful of food.

Sam took a bite of his own. "Oh my God," he said. "How did you do this?"

She grinned. "A cook never reveals her secrets," she joked. "No, but my mom taught me the basic recipe. She made it all the time when we were little. Rice, chicken breasts, cream of celery, tomato, cheddar, and breadcrumbs. The mixed veggies were my own addition."

"It's a good one," Sam said. Dean nodded agreement, and for a few minutes, the only sound was that of chewing.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" she ventured finally.

Sam and Dean both suddenly looked awkward. Cas, as usual, was impassive. "We're getting old," Sam said at last.

"Our bodies don't work anymore, the way they need to for the job," Dean added.

"We've been thinking about retirement. Get steady jobs, get a house."

"And we were hoping you wouldn't mind us getting set up here."

She blinked. "Why would I mind?"

"You'd see us a lot more," Dean said. "We were hoping we could make this more of a steady thing."

She swallowed. "Cas? Are you in on this, too?"

"I am a soldier of Heaven," Cas said calmly. "I will come when I am able, as I have done, but I won't be living with them."

"What do you say?" Sam asked, reaching over and lacing their fingers together. "Wanna let us be your pirates for more than a stolen weekend?"

She smiled. "If you're serious, you'd better be willing for more than pirates."

"Like what?" Dean asked.

"Like times I'm not up for anything more than cuddling and times I need someone to vent to."

"We can do that," Sam said. "Long as you understand we're the same."

She chuckled. "Never thought you weren't."

Sam brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Well, then. I suppose we have a deal."

She cleared her throat to hide her blush. "If everyone's done, there's a cobbler in the fridge."

"What kind?" Dean asked eagerly.

"Raspberry, strawberry, and peach," she answered.

Dean licked his lips. "Keep cooking like that, we'll ditch the dating and go straight to marriage."

She laughed. "Guess that means y'all want some." She stood and gripped the table for a moment, readjusting her equilibrium, before returning to the kitchen.

She was swamped by dizziness just inside the door. Her hand hit the wall with a dull thud and she gasped, panted, tried to catch her breath as her pulse raced in her ears. _Not now_ , she thought fiercely. _Not fucking now._

The darkness in her eyes cleared and she stumbled to the fridge; if she took much longer, they were liable to come looking for her. She forced a smile when she came back out, cobbler in one hand and spoon in the other.

"What were your plans for tonight?" Sam asked when they were almost done.

She shrugged. "TV and bed. I'm not up for much of anything else."

"I'm not either," Dean admitted. "I'm still worn out from that - whatever it was we got hit with. We dealt with the witch today," he added.

"Good," she said, and meant it.

Somehow, they all ended up piled on her couch. Sam grabbed the remote and found some fake-Japanese obstacle course they could all tolerate, and she curled up into Dean's side. He wrapped an arm around her. Sam put his hand on her leg. Cas draped his arm over Dean's shoulders and rested his hand on her head.

Not long after they got themselves arranged, she felt her eyelids beginning to droop. She glanced up and noticed Dean was drowsing, too, so she didn't feel too bad about letting her head drop onto his chest and falling asleep on him, feeling warm and loved.

Maybe she wasn't as replaceable as she thought.


	4. The Rest is Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talk, talk, talk: that's all they ever do.

She woke to the smell of baking biscuits. For a moment, she appreciated it, burrowing deeper into her pillow.

The she remembered she lived alone and realized her pillow was moving and sat up fast, wrenching her back. It took her a second to place her 'pillow' as Dean's chest and realize Sam and Cas were nowhere to be found, strongly implying one of them was responsible for the smell.

She smiled despite the pain and hobbled to the kitchen to see Sam pulling a pan out of the oven. "This is nice," she said.

He jumped a little and quickly put the pan down. "Thought I'd do something for you."

She chuckled a little. "Biscuits?"

"I was going to make cinnamon buns, but I couldn't find any cinnamon."

"I'm allergic," she explained. "You also won't find cloves, nutmeg, dark soda, Tylenol, perfume, or flowers."

His eyebrows raised. "You're allergic to all that?"

"Yep. Makes shopping in fall and winter a bitch, I have to avoid pretty much everywhere that isn't a department store. Including malls."

Sam whistled low. "That must _suck._ "

"Eh, you get used to it. You allergic to anything?"

"Penicillin."

"My brother's allergic to that, too."

"His name's Sam, right?"

"Yep. Samuel Brasen, 33 and single."

Sam cocked his head. "That's unusual. Divorced?"

"No, just an asshole. About ninety percent of his personality is pissing people off for the sake of pissing them off."

"What's the other ten percent?"

"Self-pity and violence." She took down the coffee and put two healthy scoops in the basket. "You like your coffee strong?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Awesome." She punched a few buttons. "It'll be a couple minutes. What about you, any siblings other than Dean?"

"We had one once. Adam." His eyes shadowed. "He - he died because of Dad. We didn't know he existed. Then a ghoul killed him and took his place, sent a message out to us. We came running and the ghoul nearly killed me." He turned his arms over to show her the undersides. "Looks like a suicide attempt."

She nodded agreement, chills running up her spine. "Glad you survived."

"So are we."

It was quiet for a few seconds before she asked, "What were your parents like?"

"I don't remember Mom. She was killed when I was a baby. Dad was an overbearing control freak who preferred soldiers to sons. Your parents?"

"My mom had a very...rigid idea of how we should turn out. She was raised very conservative. When I went into museum work instead of finding a husband and being a stay-at-home like she was, she got angry. She's been angry since, but she tries to be subtle about it. Sending me messages about how so-and-so is single, or that my clock is ticking and I need to get pregnant soon if I want kids. She saw my back as a personal failure, so she was expecting me to screw up her plans, but I'm the family disappointment anyway.

"My dad is a strict atheist. Says anyone who buys into organized religion is an idiot." She rolled her eyes. "Conservative nutjob, would be the polite term. I wasn't allowed to watch Disney because he thought it would make me a lesbian."

"What?" Dean blurted from the doorway.

She turned to bring him into her line of sight. "Morning, sleepyhead. Sam asked about my parents."

"You couldn't watch Disney...because he thought you'd become a lesbian," Sam said slowly.

She nodded. "And he thought it would make Sam gay. Which, to him, is the ultimate failure as a parent." She rolled her eyes again. "Coffee's ready." She pulled down a few mugs. "He's the most conservative, foolish, pigheaded man I've ever had the misfortune to know. But he tries, sometimes, to be there if we need him. And they both try to be supportive, in their own backwards way."

Dean shook his head. "Got any other siblings?"

"Sam's an asshole, but you knew about him already. My twin sister, Laura, she's pretty awesome."

"You have a twin?" Sam asked excitedly. "What's it like? Does the freaky thing work?"

She laughed. "It's like having a sister. But, yeah, for us, the freaky twin thing definitely exists. Mostly saying the same thing at the same time, to be perfectly honest, but we can tell what each other's thinking without any problems."

"So you talk in half-sentences and crap like that?"

"Sometimes. If we're excited about something." She pulled out the milk for her own coffee. "Guys, seriously, help yourselves."

"And biscuits," Sam said, pointing at the pan.

"Yes, Sam, we can see them," Dean said dryly. She snickered at the glare Sam leveled at him.

"Let me get out - Dean, can you move - yes, thanks," she said, opening the fridge. "Butter and marmalade," she said, putting them down on the counter. "Knives in the drawer by your hip, Sam."

He pulled one out. "Let's eat."

"Cas go back to Heaven?" she asked, pulling down plates.

Sam nodded. "He takes as much time as he can, but he has stuff to do upstairs. He told me last night, after you guys sacked out, that there's talk of making him choose."

"They'd make him do that?" she asked.

Dean nodded. "Angels are soldiers. And most of them don't like humans. Cas is different, for some reason. He's sided with humans over angels since the Old Testament."

"So if he's forced to choose, he'll probably choose us," Sam explained. "But it won't be pleasant."

"I can't imagine it would be," she said. "Poor Cas. Wait. Old Testament? That shit actually _happened?_ "

Dean smirked. "That was right after God left. Heaven fell apart. Angels did a lot of shit. The great flood? That was Michael - he's a son of a bitch."

"He's gone now," Sam said quietly. "Gabriel, he's the one who told Noah to build the boat."

"And then Gabriel left." Dean stretched. "He died a few years ago, right before we stuffed Michael and Lucifer back in the Cage. Lucifer's the one that killed him, actually. Raphael died a year later."

"Cas took over at that point," Sam said. "But channeling all that power made him nuts. We got him back, but those were a hard few months."

She stared at them for a moment before saying carefully, "How about we have some of the biscuits Sam made while you explain all of that, because I think you just said the apocalypse happened."

Sam and Dean both winced. "I thought we'd told you that the night we had with Cas," Dean said.

She shook her head. "You spent forty-five minutes convincing me none of us were insane. Nobody said anything about the apocalypse."

Sam blew out a breath. "Then yeah. Let's do this over food."

They spent the next few hours telling her what had happened in detail. Somewhere along the way, they ended up curled together on the couch. She filed most of it away to process later and stuck her hands in Sam's.

"You're freezing," he blurted.

"My hands are always cold," she said with a shrug. "You haven't noticed?"

"I'm usually a little too distracted."

"By what?" she challenged.

He smiled. "How blue your eyes are. The curve of your lips. The smell of your deodorant. The-"

"Flatterer," she said, laughing.

Dean laughed too. "She's got you pegged, Sammy."

"Mm, not yet she hasn't," Sam said. "Give it time."

"You wanna get her a strap-on?" Dean challenged, playing with a strand of her hair.

"Depends. You up for it?" Sam looked right down at her.

She frowned consideringly. "Are you into that?"

"That's not the question here," Sam said. "Are you interested in pegging?"

"Um, not particularly," she said, blushing furiously. "I'd - I'd try, if you wanted me to, but - uh -"

"Gotcha," Dean said. "It's okay. Sammy's got a couple of real cocks he can take, isn't that right, Sammy?"

Sam nodded, eyes wide. "It's _Sam,_ " he said instead of really answering.

Dean grinned evilly. "You'll always be Sammy to me."

Her phone rang just then and she winced. "Shit. Sorry, it's my brother. I'll be back."

"Don't threaten us," Sam said indignantly.

She threw a pillow at him as she got up and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, cumrag."

"Dickfister," she said neutrally. It was going to be one of _those_ calls. "What's up?"

"Mom wants to know if you're coming down for Thanksgiving."

"Uh, let me check real fast-"

"And if you're bringing your boyfriend."

She groaned. "You _told_ her?"

"Laura told her," Sam corrected her.

"How'd Laura know?"

"Because I told _her._ "

"And she told Mom. Great. Uh, yeah, I'll come up. Not sure about him, though." She fought to keep her breathing steady when she thought of telling her parents she was seeing more than one guy.

"Coolio. Call Mom when you know."

"Will do. How's work?"

"It's work. Inmate in block six started mouthing off to me yesterday so I Tased him."

Block six was pedophiles. "Asshole deserve it?"

"Oh yeah."

His smugness was something she could only take in small doses. "Anything else going on?"

"Fucked a pretty little brunette the other day. She had nice tits."

"Mm," she said disinterestedly. Knowing Sam, her chest would be his phone background and he'd take great pride in showing it around. It was a habit he'd formed as a teenager he'd never bothered to break. "How's Laura doing?"

"Fine. She and Richard are doing okay, last I heard. She's trying for kids now."

"Good for them."

"You thinking about kids?"

She laughed. "Not for a long time, if ever. You?"

"Oh, yeah. Soon as I find someone who'll stick around."

"Maybe if you remembered their names," she said. "You seeing brunette again?"

"Nah. She was a fun ride, but she can't blow to save her life."

"You're such a classy person."

"Aren't I? Call Mom when you know."

"Will do. Have a good day."

"You too. Bye."

"Bye." She waited until he'd hung up to mutter, "Asshole."

But he was an asshole with a point - now that her parents knew she was seeing someone, she was going to be inundated with emails and texts until she provided every single detail about him. She was a little surprised she wasn't already drowning in them. And if she had to give them details, there would be no way to hide the fact that there were three of them. And if her mother found out there were three of them, she would probably be disowned, to say nothing of her father's reaction.

She'd have to wait. Do it slowly, by degrees. Tell Laura she was seeing three, then Sam, then her parents. Maybe it would be the shock her mother needed to stop sending her shit about how she was a failure.

She went back out to the living room and had to bite her fist to keep from laughing. "Having fun?"

Sam grinned up at her from the floor, panting. His arm was around Dean's neck in a casual headlock. "Tons."

"Get off me, gigantor," Dean grumbled, throwing an elbow back. The air went out of Sam's lungs in a whoosh and he let go. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just my brother coming to ask if I was going back for Thanksgiving." She dropped onto the sofa.

"Are you?" Sam and Dean sat on either side of her.

She shrugged. "Don't know yet. Mom wants me to bring a date-"

"I'm in," Dean and Sam chorused.

She half-smiled. "That's kinda what I'm worried about. Remember how I told you they were really conservative? They might actually shoot me for seeing more than one person at a time. Sam - my brother Sam - he'll spend the whole time wondering about the mechanics of our sex life. Laura will be weirded out and try so, so hard to be okay with it and fail miserably."

"They'd shoot you?" Dean said.

She grimaced. "They almost kicked me out when I was sixteen and hadn't had a boyfriend yet, they thought I was a closet lesbian. Told me I could either prove I was straight or get out. Got a boyfriend the next day, stayed with him until he hit me, and had to deal with four months of my mother telling me I'd provoked him."

"Shit," Sam said.

"Why do you think I have two PhDs? It kept me out of the house and made me employable enough I never had to live with them again. My income was low enough I got through with most of my fees paid, so I only had about three thousand in debt when I graduated."

"Three thousand for two PhDs?" Sam said in disbelief. "You must've been a fucking genius."

"Eh, a little bit of vodka and I can write papers like nobody's business," she said dismissively. "That's all anyone really checks, baffling with bullshit works better than dazzling with brilliance. And I had a couple jobs, so it wasn't like I wasn't paying off my loans as I went. It was exhausting and I hated parts of it, but I got through. And I worked my way up to a decent job with a good salary, so it was worth it."

Dean admitted, "I forgot you had PhDs."

She smirked. "That's right, Dean. I'm a fucking doctor."

"A fucking doctor, hmm?" he said, heat suffusing his voice. "Do they have a special word for that?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but Sam beat her to it. "Sexologist," he said. "They're called sexologists."

She chuckled and put her hand on Dean's thigh. "You guys go to college?"

"I went to Stanford," Sam said. "Pre-law. I almost made it to graduation."

"I dropped out of high school," Dean said. "Got my GED. That a problem?"

"Nope," she said, squeezing his thigh. "None at all."

"Good." Dean gripped her hand. "If _that_ was a problem, _we'd_ have a problem."

"We definitely would."

Sam's arm snaked around her shoulders and tugged her closer. "No problems with me either then, right?"

"Nope." Her other hand tugged his hair gently. "None at all."

"Do you just say that all the time?" Sam murmured, ducking down so his mouth was right by her ear.

"A little," she admitted as Dean's hand settled possessively on her breast.

"Mm," Sam said, and licked the curve of her ear. She jumped. "Not expecting that?"

"Nope."

"Not at all," Dean teased, twisting to kiss her. She met his chapped lips eagerly, opening easily when his tongue flicked against her mouth.

Sam flipped her so she was straddling Dean. "Pants off," he growled, undoing his brother's belt. She undid her own jeans and shoved them down and off, awkward in the small space between their bodies. Dean didn't let her get her panties off, dragging her back down by her hips and holding her head in place so he could kiss her deeply.

Fingers - Sam's, she assumed - slipped beneath the fabric of her panties and stroked. "Little dry," he said.

She broke away from Dean just long enough to say, "Give me a minute," before she was getting pulled back.

The fingers withdrew and she heard something weird behind her; a moment later, the fingers were back, this time wetted with what was presumably Sam's spit. They sank into her with little resistance and she ground down. Sam crooked his fingers, stretching her out. She reached down and gripped Dean's dick, stroking him in time with Sam's fingers inside her. Dean made a happy noise against her mouth when she twisted her fingers just under the head, so she did it again.

His head hit the back of the couch with a thud. "Keep doing that I'll come before I'm even inside you," he said, gripping her wrist.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"Don't be sorry," he said, tugging her head. She dropped her eyes when they met his; she was always uncomfortable with eye contact, but now she was half-naked on his lap with his brother's fingers inside her, and the sudden reality of the situation acted on her libido better than a bucket of ice water.

Dean saw the change. "Hey, you okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah, you?"

"Yeah. You into this?"

"I'm good."

"Come here," he said, letting go of her wrist to pull her against his chest. She went willingly, letting him wrap his arms around her back. "You wanna stop?"

She shook her head. Stopping now, before either of them got off, seemed cruel.

"You wanna stop, we'll stop," Sam said quietly. She belatedly registered his fingers were no longer inside her.

"I'm fine," she insisted, reaching down to stroke Dean again. He'd gone half-soft.

"If you're sure," Sam murmured, replacing his fingers.

They were quiet this time; Dean pulled her panties to the side and thrust into her without a word. Sam crowded against her and the three of them half-leaned against the cushions, twisted up in each other. Their hips moved together; Dean came in a respectable ten minutes and relinquished her to Sam, who pushed and pulled until she was on her front directly on the cushions before he pulled her shirt up to the back of her neck and thrust into her cunt.

He took her hard, pounding into her. She could feel sweat dripping onto her back in the areas unaffected by scar tissue, and Dean's come squished out around Sam's cock. Sam's hand snaked down to roll her clit, and it was a shock to her system. She bucked, and he growled. "That's it, don't make me do all the work."

She did what he wanted, undulating her hips back against him as much as she was able, and he came minutes later, pulling out with a squelching noise. He kissed her neck before he sat up. "Good?"

"Good for me," she said. "Dean?"

"Good for me," he mumbled.

She smiled into the cushion. "You're half-asleep, aren't you."

"He's almost completely asleep," Sam said dismissively.

She chuckled. "Fantastic. Shit, is it really already eleven? I need to get a shower and get moving."

"Moving on what?" Sam asked blankly.

"I have errands to run. This is my only day off." She wiggled out from under him and pressed a quick kiss to his head. "I'll be out in a minute."

She let the pounding water calm her. The shower was the one place she could be sure she wouldn't be interrupted, and she reveled in the calm. There was nobody here who wanted anything from her, nothing to make her feel like shit. This was her baseline, this was her sanctuary. She would take people into her bed, but she'd be damned if she took anyone into her shower.

While she dressed, she half-wondered if they'd find a house nearby, or if they wanted kids, or if whatever it was they had going on would last longer than a few weeks. If she'd be interesting enough to keep their attention once they were settled down. She knew if she lost one of them, she lost all of them.

The thoughts were pushed away. It was no use crying over ifs. After all, they could end up all marrying each other and having a dozen kids. No, it was better to take it one day at a time, be calm, let them make the first move toward something permanent.

 _If it happens, it happens,_ she told herself firmly.

She chickened out of telling her parents about them in time for Thanksgiving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus marks the end of this particular installment. The next is in the works.


End file.
